Perfect Play
by YaKaffir
Summary: Tails meets an eccentric young creature who may be the love of his life or the harbinger of his doom. Warning: Contains explicit adult situations, not suitable for minors under 18 years of age. Disclaimer: Reposted without permission.
1. Chapter 1

Tails: Prologue

If there was anything more pathetically stereotypical than having a crush on a foreign exchange student, Miles wanted to know what it was. For starters, there was a need to hide the very fact that he had a silly spat of puppy love, for what was historically the most unattainable type of people to desire. A worry much bigger, though, was admitting that the object of affection was another guy.

The young two-tailed fox was in his third year of study at university. When facing sexuality issues, he was long forbidden to come out to anyone, even his childhood hero and dear friend, Sonic. Things were already awkward around that subject and he hoped that none of his friends noticed the sidelong glances given to fellow students, who had caught his eye. In most cases, he was capable of avoiding it, or had, at least, been able to be stealthy about it. However, with this new guy, suddenly on campus, Miles "Tails" Prower was truly challenged to be subtle, and paranoid.

He was a genet, that student-in-question. Taking a lucky guess, going by the looks, Tails would have figured him to be a graduate student, but he did not have the right atmosphere around himself. Also, judging by how often the fox was seeing him in the campus' coffee shop, the viverrine had far too much free time to be a graduating scholar. A more significant problem with the genet always residing in the shop was that Miles was usually located there, too.

Quite honestly, they were both there right now and, like he had been doing all week long, Miles was staring at the genet from over a few tables. He allowed his brilliant brain to run through a number of fantasies, innocent fantasies, at least, about being able to share as much as his first kiss with someone like that.

The genet was lovely. His features were pretty, in a way. He almost looked more like a tomboy, in some respects, rather than an actual male. The fox admired the feline look-alike for having such a beautiful striped tail that ran so long and fluid before joining up against his backside. Alas, when the orangey mammal's eyes reached the genet's rear, they took a moment too long to gaze. Consequently, the irises looked away with haste, as Miles had felt an uncomfortably warm blush burning his ears and cheeks.

Besides the tail, the rest of the body was equally fun to stare at. He dressed in a way that was sporty and amusing, yet conservative enough, so that Tails could not see the patches of darker fur that he knew ran along the genet's sides. That was, indeed, a shame. Though, it did make trying to picture him naked a bit more interesting. Miles bit the tip of his tongue at those thoughts. Perhaps, being extremely self-restricted and undersexed for that long had finally taken their toll, now that he had accepted reality. He was gay.

And yet, it didn't matter at all, the fox told himself. It was possible to lust after Mister Genet from there until graduation and it wouldn't have made any difference. Moreover, he'd been gazing all week, seeing how the girls would gather around other tables and gossip about him, tittering immaturely. He was a big hit with the ladies, obviously, and it was only a matter of time before one of them caught his eye and…

Tails sighed. He detested the feeling of helplessness that came as a part of his sexuality parcel. It was even harder if regarding that he was in the age, when peer pressure and hormones just made him crave for a partner immensely. Following his shy, distant gawking sessions, Miles would regularly spend the next class period feeling really down on himself for being reduced to that level. Life is tough when even your fantasy world disappoints you.

For now, though, he got to stare up from his coffee cup and notebooks every few minutes, having a reasonable guarantee that nobody was paying attention. He could only allow himself the dream while it lasted. It was better than nothing.

Unfortunately, things seemed like they were going to return to "nothing" territory then. The genet that he had been adoring so busily began to pick up his items to depart. Prower felt a twinge when he saw that, urging to whimper inside as he watched the only pleasant distraction being taken away. Miles tried to hide his disappointment behind the paper cup full of coffee, eyes shifting past the rim, not quite willing to give up the last glance.

Possibly, it was a stroke of luck that he did not, too. The genet tossed a few things into a backpack, grabbed his jacket and began to walk away, but the viverrine had left something behind on the chair. It looked like a carrying case of some sort. The kitsune look-alike eyed if for a moment and stood up.

That felt rather silly, because it was merely a handful of seconds before he thought about how ridiculous that sort of action was. Then again, he didn't care. Tails didn't really expect it to get anywhere, but he'd at least get an opportunity to have an excuse for eye contact. Sure, it was sad and he knew it, but he'd take what he could get.

With the little plastic case in-hand, the young fox trotted quickly after the departing genet, his two bushy tails in a blur of orange as he tried to catch up.

"Excuse me!" he called out, padding on the ends of his feet as he caught the male's attention and slowed down. "I…I think you forgot this!"

There was a flick of the tail and the viverrid turned around to face Miles.

Oh, those eyes! He was even prettier up close!

He seemed legitimately surprised at the reason, for which he was being flagged down. The primary mildly startled expression melted into one of curiosity as he looked at the fox. Prower chastised himself inwardly for the wishful thinking that the viverrine might have been checking him out, but then, the gaze went on a moment longer than necessary. It was topped off with a little smile that made the mandarin-colored stranger tingle with a blush.

The genet's oculars motioned to the small box that Tails held in his hands, "Oh, thank you!" he exclaimed, chirping with relief.

The fox smiled at the miniature outburst-like reply. It was a bit exaggerated and effeminate. Perhaps, there wasn't a need to think wishfully, after all?

"H-here you go," the vulpine stuttered, holding the case out.

His admiration source took the belonging and put it away into his shoulder bag. A few moments had passed, then, and neither of the two moved; both just sort of stood there awkwardly, as if each was waiting for the other to say something. Burning with temptation, the lesser's tongue curled up and chuffed out a predicament.

"I'm Miles…Tails! By the way," declared the stiffened, nervous fox.

Smooth. Real smooth, that was. Now, he needed to think up an excuse, for why he bothered to randomly introduce himself after being merely polite. Alas, he could not. And he began to panic frantically, run flush with embarrassment and kick himself mentally at the same time for being so incredibly stupid.

"Tails," the genet responded, testing the name's sound, "do you know that you're the first student at this school to have had the courage or open-mindedness to say "Hello!" to the weird new foreign guy?"

His voice had an accent that Miles couldn't place, but the brain was spinning too fast at the elation of such kind words. Everything seemed so clichéd, so fake, yet there it was: happening! It was not the time to be overly excited, though. Not yet.

"R-really?" he stammered out again. "Aw, I was just being nice, you know?" the vulpine managed to reply, reaching up to rub the back of his head.

The listener shook his head, clicking his tongue, "Doesn't change that you were the first," kindness reiterated, performing a smile that Miles' heart wanted to believe was only for him.

Damn, he felt like such a sap, but the thumping in his chest made everything okay.

"Say," the effeminate scholar continued, the smile growing enough to reveal flashy white teeth, "you seem like a nice and outgoing young fellow. Maybe, you can help me make friends here!"

Oh, it was so unreal! An actual conversation with a stupid crush! If the vulpine's eyes were not positively glowing and sparkling right now, then… Oh, there was just so much to consider!

"Oh, I don't know," Tails replied timidly. "I mean, I'm just…"

"Nonsense!" the genet exclaimed to cut him off, clapping a hand on the fox's shoulder, making him stand bolt upright.

Physical contact! Prower's tails could barely keep themselves away from spinning him into the air.

"You can be my first friend here! How's that?" barged in a question, leaving just enough room to sound like a command.

Miles took an opportunity to swallow a lump choking his throat and nodded, "Sure!" protruded a squeak, making the fox sound like a pre-teen for an instance. "I think that's a…"

"Take me to a party!" the genet interjected suddenly, again.

Tails flinched back in shock from both: the enthusiasm, with which the stranger spoke, as well as the words themselves.

"It's the weekend in a few hours, right? Some of your friends must be having a party!" asked the excited viverrid, forcing his companion to struggle in responding.

The fox's mind raced through the memory bank. Surely, he wasn't being hit on, was he? The foreign guy just wanted to have someone to help him get to know people, so that he'd fit in better…right? "Yeah, I…guess so. I suppose," answered the two-tailed creature, wishing for all the world that he wasn't so flustered and dopey.

"Here," the genet ended Tails' pause verbally, clicking his tongue as a pen was fished out of a pocket. Ripping a paper scrap out of his shoulder bag, he scrawled something on it and gave the writing to the troublesome fellow. "This is my number. Call me tonight after you're done with class and we can see about partying together, okay?"

Afterwards, with what might have been a wink (but was, probably, only a blink, Miles told himself), the civet turned around, heading out of sight again.

Prower stood there momentarily, idly watching in stunned condition, trying to comprehend what had just happened. It was way too much to consume for the unadulterated genius all at once.

There was a little yelp, for the genet had suddenly spun around and called out, making Tails hop onto his toes, "By the way, my name's Solus! But you can call me Sol, okay?"

"This is not a date. This is not a date." Tails was repeating himself that phrase all afternoon, worked up and feeling uneasy, whilst waiting for the party countdown clock hit zero. Sol was right, of course, about a bash being easy enough to find. The difficult part was trying not to think of it too much.

Miles' hopes had been that nothing would seem odd about him showing up and hanging out with the genet. It seemed to be the case; everyone looked like they were assuming that the vulpine was merely a generally nice fellow, helping the new guy meet some folks. Since Sol was "the new guy", the fox didn't think that any of his friends would find it weird Tails'd be spending so much time with him. He was the one to invite the genet in the first place.

Sol, for his part, looked like he was having a good time. The viverrine was so well-mannered and polite when speaking to everyone. The vulpine's friends seemed to treat him nicely enough in return. Sure, he was a tad strange, but that was to be expected. When he was not interacting with the genet directly, Miles paid close attention to his movements and mannerisms. The exchange student was definitely a bit on the…"swishy" side, but the observer still wasn't going to allow being convinced just yet.

Moreover, the fox kept telling himself, there wasn't actually any reason to believe that anything would matter, even if Sol did turn out to be gay. There might have been signs, but how much of that was just the naïveté digging too deep for hidden truths? He didn't have any real experience to come by, thus he was left confused, at a loss with faint hopes.

Every time he was starting to feel lonely and awful, however, it appeared as if Sol would look up from whatever he was doing and head back to him. It was like the genet had an intuitive sense of when Tails was feeling down. He knew that it was silly to think that, but it was comforting, nonetheless. The night resulted in steadily becoming better and better. While Sol seemed to get along well with Miles' friends, the duo also would seem to just click so well.

"You're not drinking," Sol noted, having two hours behind midnight.

The genet himself had been drinking, albeit slowly, but the fox had refrained from doing so completely. The two-tailed male was too afraid of making a fool out of himself.

"Yeah, I know," Miles responded, trying to think up something believable on the go. "I sort of drank a bit too much last weekend and my stomach's not too happy with the idea of more just yet."

He was a skinny guy. Sol would probably buy it.

The viverrid patted him on the shoulder, once more, making Tails wonder hopefully, "Sure you don't want just one?" Solus asked. "You seem a bit tense."

Prower shook his head and flashed a friendly smile at Sol's face with all the courage he could gather, "Ah, I'm fine," the fox assured. "I kind of wish they had some soda here or something, but it's no big."

The genet nodded, "Okay. You're cuter when you're not nervous, though," declared the speaker.

Startled by that, Tails quickly looked around the room to make sure that nobody had heard it, especially his friends. The music was a bit loud and so it seemed like that comment went unnoticed. The vulpine's heart pounded with embarrassment, fear and excitement all at the same time.

Thoughts were decided to be interrupted by the civet, however, "Although the look on your face right now is quite cherishable."

There was no doubting or denying anymore. Solus was definitely making a pass at him. Tails might have been prude, but he knew that much. He tried stuttering something out, but Sol silenced him with a fingertip raised to the lips.

"Let's go and try to track down that soda for you, shall we?" the genet added, winking.

Those yellow eyes became suddenly the most inviting sight that Miles had ever seen. The fox felt like his arm was moving on its own accord as he reached out to brush a few fingers over Sol's wrist, and then, he just nodded silently. The fox followed the civet's lead out of the room, trying hard not to giggle at what was going on.

They got out into the dormitory hallway. It was empty. Sol didn't stop, though, and continued to walk. The fox followed steadily, staying just a few steps behind. When they made it past a few doors without either of them saying anything, Miles had decided to finally speak up.

"Are…are we really going to find ourselves a soda machine?" he asked, wringing his hands together in nervousness.

"Of course!" Sol exclaimed, looking back over his shoulder, not missing a step. "I'll even buy it for you."

His striped tail flicked sharply to the side after he had said that, as if it were a flag for Tails' heart to begin beating faster.


	2. Chapter 2

Tails: Epeisodion

A soda machine was easy enough to find in the dormitory lobby. And, certainly, Sol got out his wallet and bought the fox a beverage, as inelegant as it was. Miles took it gratefully, disregarding the overwhelming shyness issue. He, then, made sure to keep contact with those beautiful golden eyes.

There was another uncomfortable silence: both of them stood there, the two-tailed vulpine drinking soda, hovering in front of the machine. Solus was watching him without the need to stare, so the fox felt relaxed. Something was still nagging a troubled mind, nonetheless. Another long sip – wetting the throat before speaking.

"How did you know?" the orangey male asked.

Sol looked taken aback by the question, somewhat, but smiled, "Just a hunch," he replied before taking a step closer. "Besides, I figured you were cute enough to be worth the risk," added the voice, much quieter.

Pacing a bit, the listener finished the rest of his drink. Tails clasped both hands behind himself and stretched along the back, "Um, Sol? Do you mind…not going back to the party and just coming with me to my room?" the less comfortable being declared, preceding a blink and a quick addition. "Not like that, I mean! I just… I want…"

Again, the genet silenced him with a finger raised to the lip, "You don't need to over-explain, hon'," interjected the listener, smiling warmly. "I wouldn't mind at all."

The genet got a soda for himself out of the contraption, and Miles, rather giddily, led the way. The walk to his room did not last long; campus was not too large and he was pacing in quite a hurry.

Most of the time was spent on clarifying to Sol, how Tails' friends back at the party didn't know about his interest in guys, guessing that the genet didn't really understand a desire for secrecy. Moreover, time with Sol was far better than wasting a few hours watching everyone else drink.

"So, then, your friends don't know that you like me?" inquired the viverrid as they arrived at the door to Prower's room. "That's what making you so nervous?"

Tails opened the door and let Sol inside, entering after him, "I…think so," he admitted, silently. "Also, I think you're…"

When the door got closed, both of them standing in the room, the fox turned around to see Solus, standing there, in front of his face. There was a second's time rift for the vulpine to predict what was coming when the genet stared back into his eyes affectionately and leaned forward, bringing their lips together. Surprise mustered a soft squeak out of Miles, before he could feel that affectionate, soft touch, and then, with a sensation of warmth radiating from his lips internally, the orangish creature melted in relaxation.

All of a sudden, the fox's ears caught the sound of Sol humming. It sounded blissfully happy. Miles understood, why, almost immediately. So, this was kissing. Finally, he knew what it felt like. The closeted being hadn't actually imagined that it really felt tingly or electrical, like he'd hear in exaggerated descriptions of the experience, but it actually did! The vulpine could sense his own throat vibrating from sensations pouring down into his flesh, emanating from the lips' contact point. Like magic, it was as if everything just got warmer, somehow. It was pure joy.

Tails didn't want it to end; the kiss felt too incredible to simply cease. Even knowing that he might be sending the wrong impression to Sol, the fox set his hands on the genet's hips and pushed him closer. Prower felt the press of a tongue at his lips, so he divided them, letting it slide into his mouth and meet his own. A moan escaped the fox, echoing into the genet's muzzle. Solus' hands grabbed at his lower back in return and held him near.

The kiss was only broken when the viverrine suddenly groped his longer fingers at the two-tail's rear. There was a yip of surprise and the orangey canine tugged away from the companion on instinct. That resulted in a blush welling up on both cheeks, but even so, it was not enough to replace the excitement in the genet's embrace. Already, he missed it greatly.

"I'm sorry," Miles whispered guiltily, staring into Sol's eyes. "Just caught me off guard. I'm okay."

Without a need for more words, the viverrid dragged the male into another kiss, running one of the slender hands across the light-colored fur of his cheek. Even the weightless touch of the genet's fingertips was making his ears stand up, and he craved for it immensely, nuzzling at that hand. Finally, after years of conflicting emotions that did not make sense, his biggest fantasy was coming true. It was better than he could ever imagine. He could not let it pass away. It was like a drug.

Sol kept his arms wrapped around Miles' body and began to shuffle towards the vulpine's bed. The genius had noticed that, but dared not break away from the genet's grip. His head and neck turned, twisted, trying to keep the kiss as full as possible, marveling the tongues twirling back and forth.

All of a sudden, there was a lap for Tails to fall into, since the genet sat down. He slid down comfortably, hooking both palms over Solus' shoulders, holding so tightly. Something in the back of a caring mind was telling him that the entire world would end if he turned back.

Unexpectedly, the two-tailed male let out an airy moan. The cause was not known by the least, at first, but he had figured it out after a second: somewhere, during the passionate kissing, the orangish critter had gotten very, very hard and Sol's fingers had slid down, finding his erection. So many thoughts shot through his brain at that instance, seeming as if they were swarming through the body itself, entwining endlessly into one. It was the first intimate touch from another he had ever felt, and it was amazing. This was someone he had just met, today, not anybody special, and yet, the stranger was special in a totally different way, but what if he came too early, and Sol didn't understand, and…

And the train of thought came to a crashing halt, as he had encountered a renewing, overwhelming sense of peace. He pulled away from the hold for a second and looked into the genet's face, which, in its turn, had a reassuring smile on.

"Don't stop?" the fox uttered quietly, winding the request into a question.

Sol said nothing. Those slim indexes just went to catch the vulpine's button and zipper, and, with an acute skill, got his trousers open easily. Tails gasped, feeling excited, and leaned back so that the genet could have more space. The viverrid's hand plunged and pulled down the front of the fox's boxers. Forcing his eyes to stay open, Miles watched as the associate's fingers wrapped around his shaft, and began to caress.

Ample bliss enveloped the two-tail's senses. Although he knew that it must have been only his imagination, it felt like Sol's hand was twice as warm as flesh was supposed to be. He did not lift a finger to stop his confused mind from drifting away, because it just felt so good!

"Oh…oh, Sol...Sol…" called the young playmate, and each time the genet's name was spoken, he felt the strokes on his stiff cock get firmer and faster.

Tails' jaw dropped down, but before it was possible to make a sound, he heard a gasp come from Solus, instead, "Oh, my!" the genet peeped in surprise, staring solid at Miles' face.

The blushful fox shivered, beginning to squirm a bit in the warm lap, "Sol, what's wrong?" he asked, nervous, ready to panic.

Before it was possible to get away, though, the struggle was stilted by a peck on the cheek. The genet's lips stayed there for a second, then, they began to move. Returning, they sort of snuffled the fox's face, kissing and licking it, almost as if tasting.

"Oh, nothing's wrong at all," the ringtail whispered, sounding stunned, in awe. "I finally realized what it is about you, Tails," "Mister Genet" added, holding the canine tightly, and tried to twist him around to lay the vulpine down onto his back.

Looking into Sol's face in return, Tails could not bring himself to refuse. The desire far outweighed his fears, and the fact that he might have come across as "easy" or "slutty" was not even included in the decision. He needed that so badly. He needed Sol to have him.

The genet pulled Prower's arms up. The fox wriggled, trying to help the associate dispose of his shirt, right before lifting his feet and rump up to be gotten out of his pants, as well. Then, slowly, the civet peeled off the marooned boxers, leaving the young vulpine completely naked on his bed. One of Sol's hands rode up Miles' front, from his hip, over his stomach, and up along the chest. The male's claws, afterwards, dragged down through his fur bluntly as the canine lay there, panting.

"Yes, that's what it is, definitely!" Solus told no one in particular, hurriedly taking his own shirt off and dropping it away from the bed, letting Tails see those spots of fur he had tried to visualize dozens of times before, back at the coffee shop.

Two bare torsos pressed together, with the genet's bulge in the fabric of his trousers ground against the vulpine's exposed hard-on. The fox fidgeted to move upward, desperate for contact and stimulation, groaning quietly.

Bringing his snout up to the white cheek again, the foreigner nuzzled it tenderly while his hand roamed up and down the double-tail's slinky side, "Oh, Tails, you have no idea what this is like for me!"

It was true; Tails didn't have an idea. At the moment, he only knew how things were for himself, and they were beyond awesome. Sol's face and hands explored him like he was an old lover that he had known for years and years and who knew every sensitive square inch of the vulpine's body intimately. Miles could hear his heavy breaths taken through the nose as he poked the snout at the fox's jaw line and throat. Those whiskers tickled. The young scholar would have giggled if it weren't for the raspy, airy breaths caused by the passionate caresses, occurring all along the length of his body.

The upper half was lifted back up, and when Solus looked into Miles' face, his eyes were, suddenly, of a different color. Even in the partial darkness of the dimly lit room, the fox could have seen that the genet's pupils were a bizarre blue color that looked to be glowing faintly. He didn't put any thought to the reason, though. All he cared about, right now, was that the genet was making him feel better than anyone else ever had; Sol was making him feel better than he'd felt in his entire life!

"Tails, you're incredible!" the genet purred. The genius was a bit puzzled by those words; he hadn't actually done anything yet, really, to be considered "incredible", in his own opinion, but the genet carried on, "Do you even know what you feel like to me right now? Oh, it's just beyond words!"

A wave of confusion washed over Miles' mind, however, it was cut short right when the exchange student darted down rapidly, enveloping the tip of the male's shaft with his lips and tongue. Tails let out a little cry of pathetic pleasure, while his body seized along the spine, watching fixatedly as the genet lips pressed flush against it, pulling and taunting the skin. Nothing, not the most tainted fantasy could have prepared him for the experience of the real thing, and he whined through his happiness, being pleasured with a cute muzzle.

The surrounding world paradoxically seemed to be slowing down and speeding up all at the same time. It was as if the vision of the room spinning around him was lagged in his brain, somehow, while the sensation of warmth and a wet mouth around his groin felt hasted unfairly. He wanted to lose control and just force himself over the edge, in order to finally experience that ultimate pleasure caused by someone else, but the second he thought it, Sol pulled away.

"Oh, Tails! You're like glass! I can hear and taste it coming off of you…so perfect and flawless," the genet whispered, licking his teeth and crawling forward to kiss the foxy creature on the chin. Miles wanted to whimper, for a start, when his shaft was left cold and unattended like that, but everything else about Sol's touch made it all right. The voice drifted back into his ears, "So perfect and flawless," it repeated. "Like a fresh pane of glass."

The intellectual could see, now, with Solus' face so close to his own: the genet's ethereal eyes were pooling with tears at the bottom, and his voice dripped with a bittersweet quality as he cradled the vulpine's face, "It's like a field of freshly fallen snow. Do you know what I mean, Tails? That's what you taste like. God, it's just perfect and I… I…"

The tears fell from both sides of the civet's muzzle, one by one, dropping onto the soft fur of Prower's cheeks. Where they impacted, the canine's skin felt warm and pleasured, like, somehow, he was receiving an invisible, sensual massage. It scared him. Here was this young gentleman, obviously, something "other", and he was crying. Was this some strange melodrama played out for his benefit? Was this, maybe, only a dream? He had no way to know, but the baffled creature needed to give up the wondering. He had come too far to stop himself.

"Oh, please," the fox whimpered. "Sol, I want you so badly," he spoke, the words carrying the truest emotions possible. It was almost akin resting in pain, waiting on the border of something that he knew would have been amazing.

Having his eyes closed, the eyelids clenched off the last of those slow-running droplets, "Such delicious truth to those words," he acknowledged admiringly, giving the fox a happy smile as he sniffled once.

The eccentric started to work himself out of the tight pants, and Sonic's mandarin friend watched the action with a surreal sense of anticipation. His shaft was long, but thinner than the fox's own. It looked fragile, like the glass that Sol kept mentioning. Before the genet got his pants off, though, he reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a tiny packet that Miles couldn't identify. The anthropoid kept it in his hand, while worming out of the trouser legs, and then, he tore it open.


	3. Chapter 3

Tails: Exodos

The faint light of the room glimmered off whatever was coming out of that packet, squeezed out onto Sol's fingertips. Next, the genet brought a hand down to his shaft, and the fox had finally recognized it for what it was: lube. Solus stroked himself slowly a few times, working that pretty cock up with a slippery sheen. He, then, placed another tiny dab onto a fingertip, before rubbing it gently at the little hole beneath Miles' fluffy tails.

Tails gasped, but held it inside his breath, not uttering a beep after the one instance. That was really it. That was really going to happen, right here, right now. He bravely reached an arm up for the genet, and Sol took it, pulling himself atop the vulpine's body. The fox could notice the slightly taller genet trying to position himself, hunching over. Their eyes met again, and despite the otherworldliness of the viverrid's glowing irises, Tails felt at peace with things, even though he knew that something incomprehensible was happening.

More tears, stronger than before, "Just one more time, Tails," Sol whispered with sadness and urgency lurking about in his voice. "I need to taste your splendid innocence one last time."

Before Prower could react or protest, Solus had their muzzles locked together in a deep, passionate kiss. The vulpine returned it gladly, the genet's moans mixing and joining with his own. There was a sudden rush of pleasure, since Sol's fingers tugged up at the end of the fox's shaft, serving as a partial distraction when the genet sharply pushed into him.

Miles' next moan was whimpered and loud, but not as strong as the genet's. Sol sounded almost in pain, which the fox, being put through his ultimate fantasy, thought was a little backwards. With a deep breath taken through the nostrils, the vulpine spread his legs further apart, letting Sol's monopoly fill him with the slippery cone in a few fluid thrusts. The metal figurine was not thick enough to spread his virgin appendages to the point of causing pain, but its length was sufficient to tickle at all of the right places that he never knew he had, inside.

A heavy chill descended into the room, as if the heat was slowly being drawn out of it. Cool air, swooping along the fox's hot body caused a shiver from both cold and pleasure. Sol's lean body arched over the canine's own, droplets of sweat and tears condensed on his whiskers. The fingers around Tails' member slid up and down, still slick from the lubricant, while the genet's hips moved back and forth, claiming the young player's virginal game his. As the orangish creature experienced the sensation of Sol's length smoothly sliding below the two restless tails, bizarre warmth spilled through the entire body, fighting off the unexpected rush of cold air.

Sol murmured under his breath, while his snout rested against Tails' neck, "Footprints in the snow… Cracks in the glass."

The same stream of babble just kept coming, and it was impossible to make any sense of it. In the genius' mind, the words carried no meaning, as if they were nothing more than a sound, beautiful, yet agonizing. Thrusts were kept careful, at an even pace, like the limits to which the fox's bodily pathway would go were somehow known to Sol. There was a sudden sharp upturn at the end of the next throw, making Miles squeak from the sheer force of the gentleman's hips smacking up against his rear assets. And then, slower rhythm took over once more.

Holding on for dear life, the vulpine wrapped its arms firmly around Solus' shoulders. The stance was topped off with wordless moans, a voice taking a higher and higher pitch each time the genet had entered fully. There was so much extraordinary stimulation, so much pleasure, and an indescribable amount of warmth. Finally, the game had taken too much, and with a delighted cry, the vulpine's sinewy body writhed up and jerked, the invaded passage clenching down around Sol's member, while his own pulsed hard, getting the fur on the viverrid's stomach matted and sticky.

Once the feeling of the first orgasm shared with another pierced Tails' consciousness, Sol immediately burst out into a wailing, shrieking mess of sobs. The orangish male knew that they must have been the result of extreme happiness, but it was still the saddest sound that Miles had ever heard. It made him hug and cling onto the genet tighter still, wishing and hoping for it to somehow comfort the depressed creature. In turn, Solus buried his tear-wet face into the crook of the fox's neck.

Thrusts were stopped, and the genet began to just grind his hips roughly against the curves of Miles' game. The intellectual could feel that Sol was still hard and unspent inside, and he must have been truly desperate for release. A soft nip at the side of his throat occurred before Sol leaned back up, breaking the fox's embrace, holding himself up by the hands. Dampened lines of fur showed, where the tears had run on the now awestruck face. Like before, the genet cupped a hand at Miles' cheek.

"Gave… You gave this to me. Given, not taken," he told the fox.

"I don't understand," Tails whispered back, noticing in his own vocal cords that he, too, was on the verge of tears. He didn't understand why.

The companion just shook his head, "Don't you worry, little one" was said, and Tails realized himself blushing at the endearing term. "Let's just both enjoy this," the exchange student suggested and pulled out, putting both hands onto Miles' hips, attempting to shift them.

He got the hint, and quickly rolled onto his stomach to make the break as short as possible. Prower's hips were pulled up and he was brought into position, where the rump was slightly raised. Tails' companion leaned down over the vulpine's back, pressing against the backbone, and took one of those stubby ears between his teeth, whilst the shaft began to sink back inside. It forced Miles to whimper in arousal at the feeling that angle was giving, the length of Sol's stiff cap causing an entirely different sensation now. The dominant's teeth tugged at the ear before releasing it, and the smooth thrusting began anew.

Miles wriggled beneath the viverrid's body, as he was worked back into the play, the tip of Solus' shaft tickling and pressing at the fox's sensitive gland. With each movement of those perfect hips, the genet's breathing, tinged with sadness, was fading away into amazement. His hands wandered along the genius' underside, brushing through the fur on his stomach and chest, seeking out and, consequently, finding one of the nipples. The soft pinch made Miles' torso arch up, causing his backside to lift and press back against Sol's hips.

Suddenly, the genet's head darted down, and a jaw clamped at the side of Tails' neck from behind, like a predator. His lips were sheathing teeth, preventing them from biting into the fox's petite skin, and the inexperienced player could tell that Sol was struggling to hold back on his act of dominance. Hot breath and a tense whine escaped the seal of those lips when the genet stopped thrusting, emptying himself into the male's body. Miles sensed a prickling run through his physique, like a pulsing shock, and collapsed onto the mattress, with the genet on top.

Finally, the lips let go and the genet began to pant and rasp. Miles bit down onto his pillow and squirmed, bearing back against the still-hard thimble that hold him in its grasp, and wriggled against the bed sheets, trying to trigger his second orgasm. It took a few moments of grinding against the fabric, but he soon came again, soaking both, the sheets and fur.

He was still faintly aware of Sol murmuring something to himself inaudibly while obliviously drifting off to a blissful sleep, not fearing tomorrow for once.

Tails snapped back to the waking world in the morning, and panicked immediately. He rolled over and saw the genet, lying there, despite the odds. So, it hadn't been a dream, after all. The fox smiled to himself.

At first, he assumed that the viverrine was sleeping, judging by the way he was partially curled up. After a few seconds of listening, however, Prower could hear that the companion's breath was far too pressured and heated for him to possibly be at rest. It sounded as if the foreigner was still experiencing last night's rush of pleasure.

Miles tapped a few fingers on the gentleman's shoulder gently. Sol turned around and looked at the male. His eyes were back to yellow. It was the first thing that the fox noticed.

"Even your dreams were lovely, you pretty thing," the genet flattered, petting the length of the scholar's snout once.

The lesser fudged a smile; it was impossible to remember what he had dreamt about.

They looked into each other's eyes for what must have been at least a couple of minutes, before the question burning in Tails' mind had finally escaped his lips, "Sol…what are you?"

Eyes closed, a solemn expression washed over the genet's previously joyful face, "I can't tell you. It's better if you don't know," said the baffling genet.

The listener suddenly felt a heavy pang in his chest. It was obvious where that was going.

As if on cue, Sol opened his eyes back up and touched the mink's lips with a single index like it was done before, "Don't be sad. I couldn't bear to taste your sadness in the wake of your happiness," he comforted, with a caring expression on his face.

"You keep saying things like that," Miles said, making it sound like a mere question, gently pulling Sol's hand away from his mouth. "You say it like I should have any idea of what you're talking about."

The exchange student shook his head, and clicked his tongue once, "I'm sorry," Solus apologized verbally. "I've been…this way for a long time. It's hard to remember what it was like, being otherwise – being like you."

Prower's mouth opened to ask another question, but he was interrupted by Sol again, "I know what you're going to ask," explained the ringtail, "but I can't tell you that, either. And you have no idea how much it hurts me that it's the case." The lithe form paused for a moment, leaving the fox in silence, and then carried on, "It hurts me. I haven't been able to say that in the longest time. Probably, it's been longer than that since I last felt the way you made me feel last night," the gentleman admitted, seeming guilty.

Nothing was making sense, and Miles wanted to cry, though, held back, "I'm never going to see you again, am I?" inquired the two-tail, his head poking down to the ground, but the eyes remaining fixed on his associate.

Sol nodded lightly, "No," he answered. "You don't deserve the danger I'd bring," followed an addition, welling Miles' eyes full of tears. "Listen," continued the speaker, holding the canine by the shoulder. "There's a difference between gratification and enjoyment…between doing what one has to do and what one wants to do. Last night, for me, was like…like gluttony. I could have stopped myself, but I didn't, because I didn't want to."

Another pause, the vulpine unable to stop little droplets of sadness falling from his oculars.

"Innocence…that's something that I'd forgotten the flavor and sensation of, Tails. I won't soon forget it again," the genet said with a hint of a smile on his face, but it did not win against the overall solemnity.

Miles went to interrupt, "But I wanted you to!" he choked out. "I-I…"

"Shhh," Sol hushed, stroking the fox's cheek affectionately, almost lovingly. "I know you did, and believe me that I don't take it for granted," he spoke, closing the eyes. "But you deserve to be able to give your innocence to someone better than me."

When those eyes opened again, they had returned to the radiant blue from the night before.

"What's going to happen now?" Tails asked, staring back into those glowing irises. "I'm scared…"

Solus ran his palm up to the vulpine's temples, and pressed softly, allowing a warm sensation pass through his body, "You won't be," the genet whispered, and those were the last word that the creature had heard before he felt a sudden compulsion to sleep come over him.

When Tails woke up, the fox, surprisingly, found his cheeks damp from tears and wondered, blinking confused from time to time, what possible reason had there been for him to cry?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 10: Stasimon

Sometimes, I sit and wonder how old I am.

That probably doesn't mean what you think it does. It's not like I've forgotten or lost count of time. Perhaps, I'd be better off rephrasing the statement into: "I wonder how old I should consider myself." That probably would make a bit more sense.

Part of me thinks I should be considered timeless, ageless, and eternal. For all I know, it might be the case. Yes, I know. Still not making any sense, am I? Try being me for a little while. We'll see how much sense you'd make then.

Understanding things had always been the biggest problem of my existence. Half the time, I don't even know what to call stuff. The rules of this world are different for yours truly. It's the same universe, though, and I'm definitely a part of it, despite how often it feels like I'm just watching it through glass.

Glass. That's what the fox was like. I told him that, and he didn't get it. Of course, he did not. How was I supposed to explain what I do? You just don't tell someone: "Yes, I'm metaphysically taking the form of your innocence, breaking it into trillions of tiny shards, whereupon I will thrive in those fragments for the next few weeks." Especially, not while you're making love to them; you simply can't do that.

Maybe I didn't exactly "love him" love him, but the act itself was still lovemaking. I know it was a lovely experience, and naturally, he loved it, too. The sort of love isn't something I had felt in a long time, either, so I relished it so wonderfully. However, the innocence was that really got to me.

I hadn't felt true innocence like that in the longest time. Must've been decades, I figure. It might have been cropped up a few times in the meantime. Even if it did, other issues are now on the surface. Too much of the interim is overloaded with negative emotions, thus the positive ones get covered up. When you folks talk about things being "dark" in the emotional sense, let me tell you: you're not kidding.

No, before the fox, the last time I recall experiencing such unspoiled purity was my own. Except…it wasn't quite me that felt it. This leads back to what had been said before, you know, the part about wondering about aging.

My name, or is that "his name", was…well, the actual name doesn't serve an importance, in the long run; I'm not sure if it's even technically possible to claim I'm the person. "Sol" was the nickname, and that's what I liked to be called. It's what I thought of myself. And after the incident, that was one of the few things that remained in his mind, so "Sol" I remain.

I kept that name, but lost the innocence. Most of everything vanished, really. Nevertheless, I gained much, much more in return. It wasn't an even trade. If anyone had a solution for going returning to what I was before, I'd take it. Still, if that were possible, I don't know if I'd be able to survive without going mad. Things would be just too different.

Throughout the years, I've gotten used to thinking about the emotions of others as a smorgasbord for myself. Wanting to be normal doesn't mean that you'd be able to adapt to being normal. I suppose that fraction of me should be bitter about that, yet not the whole. And there's a reason for that.

I enjoy what I do.

Some folks think it's a sign of sadism. They're right, of course. I'm not going to lie and say otherwise. I hurt people, and enjoy it. Sometimes the pain is physical, but mostly it's emotional and psychological. The fact doesn't mean I want to do it, though.

Maybe that seems like a contradiction, not really. Think of it like…like eating. Hell, that's practically what "eating" is, for me. Eating is something that one needs to do. If you don't eat, you die. Plain and simple. It's a requirement, besides, eating is pleasurable. It feels good to eat. It provides the impetus to eat again.

And when you're hungry, things taste better, don't they?

When I draw off the thoughts of a person when they look at me and consider me arousing, it's synonymous to somebody cooking dinner in the room next door. When I break the spirit of an arrogant man and make him concede to my will, compare the process to a beast sinking its jaws into the prey's belly. For the victim, and from an outside viewpoint, it's horrible, by all means. But the beast has no remorse. And neither do I. It's a necessity. It just happens to be an enjoyable necessity.

So, yes, I'm a sadist, and I like it. If I'm going to be forced into the role, I might as well make the most of it, right? There's not much of a choice to the matter. It's how you get by.

Actually, that's not true. There is a choice. Emotions caused by pain and suffering aren't the only ones possible to consume. Things like love, fear, anger, glee…all of those are viable options. Some are better than others, then again, some are just easier to get.

If you think of it that way, then I am, perhaps, a bit of a hedonist, going for the easier, more satisfying route. That probably comes as no surprise, I bet.

Lately, though, things keep coming back to that taste of innocence I got so recently. It was spectacular! Not only was it a different flavor of sustenance that I'm used to, it was more rewarding. And the person I used to be felt much happier to be feeding off of something so positive and…pure. I thought to myself: "It'd be great if I could just make do with this instead of playing with people's minds."

Then, cold reality hit me. How often would there be possible to find innocence like that, and have it so readily given? Not often enough, certainly. Besides, after I had their innocence, I'd just need to leave. Such treatment would most likely hurt them even more. Doing that would be worse than any sadism I could come up with. Right now, there's a young two-tailed fox out there. He gave himself to me and doesn't remember; I used the given strength in order to spare him the agony of heartbreak.

A paradox, I suppose. I love the suffering that people get, but I hate to have them suffer. Under most circumstances, sometimes, they deserve it.

Like that rich fucker. Damn, the gall of him! I went through so much time and effort, looking and researching to find someone who would appreciate the pleasure and attention I could give him. I deliberately found someone hard-to-please, that everything could be NICE, and give him that perfect pleasure he sought. Consequently, I could feed off that sheer bliss, and I'd be happy. We could have both gone home satisfied that night.

But no! He ruined it. He deserved the torment I caused him. And it only made things worse, because the taste was so sour, mixing with my own anger and bitterness. Some tastes just don't mix well together on the tongue. It's times like these that I really begin to despise my existence, needing to feed this way. It makes me wish that I had never been saved.

Again, we're back to the innocence, which just keeps coming up. We have also returned to the question of my age. There's a reason why these threads connect where they do. To comprehend the idea you need to understand more about me; you need to understand who, what, I am.

I am Sol. I am a genet. At the same time, I'm neither of those things. I am something fundamentally different from what I was back before my innocence was lost. Whether it was luck, or a curse, time will tell.

Sol, as he – I was, was a thirteen-year-old boy when it happened. A thirteen-year-old boy stands no chance against three grown men intent on venting their sexual frustrations. For something that's drawn to an outpouring of spiritual energy, there isn't much more intense than such a group of four people, all together in the same place. That's where it happened.

I found the young boy right on the cusp of disaster. Something about experiencing abject terror for the first time felt irresistible. Contrasting that with the violent, id-driven urges from the three men, the distinction seemed clear, and there was a choice to be made. I asked the genet child if he would like my help.

And when I heard that request for help, naturally, I accepted. I was being assaulted, and surely, I would have taken even the longest of long shots for any hope of safety. The warm feeling entered my mind and thoughts mingled together.

In that very moment I've lost my innocence.

The first who laid a hand on me got killed instantly. My memory's a bit of a haze from that point, but if there was any more of him left apart from a bloody smear on the wall, it'd be a surprise. After that, the haze changes into a blur. I only know when everything ceased, I stayed untouched, and the three men were dead. Just one of them had enough remains to constitute a body.

I could taste it for myself at last: terror. The other two to die had been utterly horrified to see the first obliterated before their eyes. The group's final moments were filled not with naught, but confusion, panic, desperation, and, finally, agony.

It was…scrumptious.

From that moment forward, we had to separate again. I had given help, and I made use of the granted power. Though, something happened, and I don't think I'll ever know what, to prevent the dissolution. My running theory was that the intensity of emotions in those few seconds, going from fearing for my life, to reveling in chaos, and the resultant joy of survival, was just too much.

And so, I now am what I am. There is no more thirteen-year-old boy, and there is no more metaphysical entity. Two have combined, with the result being different from either of the other. That is what I am.

I've tried to come up with a term for myself, but nothing really fit. If you replace "blood" with "emotion", then I'm something similar to a vampire, only…not quite. After I had become a bit more sexual, I thought of myself as an incubus of sorts. But that implies I'm after the sex.

Sure, I've got my sexual urges, but that's separate from feeding. I've got a body, and a body has needs, too.

You might be wondering, then, where the seduction shtick comes from. That part's simple: you dig, where you know there's oil.

If you can try to, imagine that you're a confused being with untested magical abilities, and the body of a thirteen-year-old boy (I say that like it's so easy, I know). Part of you is still getting over the fact that you just killed three people, and part of you is confused as to why it's thinking in the terms of "I" and not "we".

The first instinct is to flee. Your second is to hide. You tap into some part of your mind that you didn't know you had, and change yourself; somehow, you change yourself. You want to feel safer, and stronger, and so thirteen becomes twenty. Now, that takes a lot of juice from you. Luckily, you've overstuffed yourself at the previous meal, so you've got enough to go around.

But now, you're hungry again.

Part of you thinks it is thirteen years old. Part of you knows that you're something far more ancient. Neither is correct. Your mind needs the emotions of others, but you are bound by flesh. Walls, once nothing, are now hindrances. Water, once life, is just wetness.

However, you're physical. You can affect things. Remember that part of you still believes you're thirteen. And what do thirteen-year-olds do when they want someone to notice them?

That's right! They cause trouble! You go out there, and spark mayhem and chaos wherever you can! Like some fiery impish creature you wreak havoc, and delight in the confusion among people, because that confusion is your lunch. Your magics let you do things that folks can't believe, and stupefaction tastes an awful lot like candy at that age.

There's a problem to that, about reaping your harvest by causing problems for the "mortals", since you suddenly realize that you're one of the mortals, as well. Even if that explosion you set off with your mind doesn't kill anybody, eventually, people are going to recognize you're the key factor in all of these unexplained incidents. You can't run forever. Even if you could, you couldn't feed. There has to be another way.

So you decide to try a different tactic. Instead of perturbing the masses at a distance, you try to get really strong emotions from single people, up close and personal. When your survival depends on having supernatural empathy, you discover something pretty quickly.

People like sex. They really, really like sex. They think about it all the time, really. And they especially think about it when you do the right things. You've got something to work with. Now you need a mirror.

You stand in front of the said mirror, and look at yourself. It's time to look your best. Not just "the" best, mind – "your" best. So you alter a few things here and there, and go with what you've seen works. After all, part of you has been around for a very long time, and they're not joking when they call it the World's Oldest Profession.

Now, you just need your modus operandi. You need to know how to hone in on your targets and get what you want, without failure. Women are emotional creatures, yes, but that sort of emotion is drawn out in a more long-lasting sense. You can't make time commitments like that. You need all of your emotion coming at you in raw, unbounded bursts.

Men: when it comes to the release of id, power tripping, and selfish gratification, they're your jackpot. That's what you want, and you know how to get them. You've given yourself the perfect face, perfect curves, and perfect ass. Dress yourself up like prey, to hide the fact that you're the predator. Men are going to want you.

Your first victim is a hawk. Why not? He's a burly chunk of masculine energy. He'll be good for you. So you provoke him. You wear tight leather pants and a chain collar, and you make yourself very, very available. You swish that awesomely seductive tail of yours to make sure that his attention is right there on your ass, where you want it, and where he wants it.

He takes the bait. You smile. The dance has begun. You can flirt night-flawlessly, because you're the next best thing to an outright mind reader. Of course, he never realizes this, because one: you're just that good, and two: you're too sexy for him to care even if he noticed.

You "let" him buy you a drink. He doesn't usually do that sort of thing, but you throw a few suggestions in to the back of his brain to make him do it. That way, more eyes are on you, and the rest of his patrons in the establishment get a bit jealous. Jealousy, you discover, makes a wonderful horse d'oeuvre. That morsel of emotion fuels your power. You make that hawk your bitch before you're even anywhere near a bedroom.

The best part is, birdie doesn't even know he's your bitch. He's still dripping and oozing with disgusting self-confidence that you can slurp off here and there. And he's horny. Even without sensing emotions, you know that his cock is straining hard in those pants. He wants your ass so badly he'll do anything to do it.

And so you make him.

You tease him for hours and hours, and even after you're alone together, you drag it on. He's dying to just blow his wad, but you force him to sit in agony, as you don't quite put out. Finally, he starts getting frustrated. Better reel the sucker in, now, because otherwise, he'll decide to leave, and the energy you blow on forcing him to stay will be more than you get from the meal itself.

The hawk brings you to the bed. You let him tear those leather pants off of you, and he lubes that fat cock of his up. It's nice-looking, you think, but yours is pretty. He wraps his hefty arms around your slightly feminine frame, and he throws you on your back onto the bed, and now, he has his prize.

But you have your prize, too. If you weren't dependant on drinking his lust, it'd be almost worth it just for the look on his face alone, as he finally gets to shove his dick into you. He holds you by the ankles, and spreads your legs wide. You've never done this before, but still, you're a pro. You're the best goddamn fuck he's ever had, and his pleasure is the sweetest thing you've tasted, you realize, since you killed a room full of people in self-defense a few years ago. Now, you know that your plan works. This is the way to go.

You beg the guy to slam your tight little ass harder. It turns him on. He spreads you a bit wider, and that hot, slippery cock keeps hitting nice and deep inside of you. Coincidentally, you don't even need to fake the whimpering noises as he pumps you full of his cock incessantly. You realize, shamelessly, that you get your own pleasure from that. Unfortunately, that's an emotion that doesn't go on your plate. It's okay, though, because you're coming up on the end of the main course, and dessert is next. The thirteen-year-old inside of you that never died – he fucking loves dessert.

The hawk pulls out, and you're already devouring the rush of his orgasm before his fat tip even begins to spurt. He shoots his load all over you. The strange, new sensation of wet stickiness spraying your fur is nice, but it's nothing compared to the feeling of an unadulterated male climax vented specifically at you.

Fortune smiles upon you. You get a bit of an after dinner drink as you slowly sip down birdie-boy's twisted sense of pride over the fact that he just came all over you. He's so fucking smug. He thinks he's hot shit. He thinks that he just made you his bitch.

Oh, how wrong he is. He just spent all night playing right along with whatever you wanted him to, like an overgrown action figure. Now, it's your turn to be the cocky little motherfucker. You've earned it.

Tomorrow night? Do it all again. Change it up a bit. Maybe go with someone who wants you to play "pet", and munch down his elation when you let him jizz all over your pretty face.

They say: "Third time's a charm." And before night number three is over, you know you're addicted. You could turn back, maybe, but that would take effort.

Besides, most addictions are bad for you, and down the line, they'll probably kill you, but this addiction keeps you alive.

This is why I have no remorse about what I am. I enjoy what I need to do in order to survive. Am I still a sadist? Yes. People get over the pain, eventually. It's up to me to cause new turmoil in the minds of people so that I can continue to exist. Survival of the fittest has never, ever implied fairness.

The rules are different for me. They always will be. Not even magic can change that. I don't need to, though. Like I said, I have no remorse about what I am. I can't help what I am. I just am. But that doesn't mean I'm not remorseful about what I've done.

I've made people suffer. I liked doing it, too. I've brought proud men to their knees; I've broken the will of stalwart folk. There have been times where I've lied through my teeth and harnessed the reigns of mind and soul to trick someone, just so that I could eat their fucking surprise when they realize that I was on top of them instead of them being on top of me. And one time, many, many years ago, I killed a group of three people.

I don't regret that, though, either. I'll never regret that. They were scum among scum, and they deserved to die, probably more slowly than I let them. Sometimes, I wish for the power to bring them back to life, just to kill them again. Sure, I could devour their suffering anew, but the real reason I'd do it would just be to feel MY pleasure when I get to do it.

Maybe I'm not exactly sure about the times I've felt innocence since I changed. But I do know that I've never cried since becoming what I am, except for one time.

Somewhere out there, there's a college sophomore. He's probably got a bright future ahead of him. Powers willing, he'll make some lucky person very happy someday. His strength of character is amazing; he's a bit shy, but he'll get over it.

This lovely young man gave me his innocence. And while I was drunk with rapture from that, I could taste for one moment, just one fleeting moment, that somewhere, deep down inside, he was hoping that someday he'd fall in love with me. I couldn't let him experience the suffering of having to learn that it could never come to be. So I took those moments away from him, leaving him ignorant, and sparing the pain.

But I still think that's the worst thing I've ever done.


End file.
